


Little Princess

by the_most_beautiful_broom



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, Domestic Fluff, F/M, sorry bout that, written while i was feeling jasper emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14084349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_most_beautiful_broom/pseuds/the_most_beautiful_broom
Summary: For the dialog prompt "I love you, but you need to shut up."Clarke snuggled deeper into the pillow, her body relaxing as Bellamy’s low voice carried through the house. She couldn’t make out any of the words, but his voice was just as soothing to her as it was to their daughter. When Jordan’s screams quieted to a steady cry, Clarke reached over to turn up the volume on the camera.“Hey, little princess,” Bellamy was crooning, shuffling around the room slowly, “bad dream or just lonely?”Jordan hiccupped before drawing fresh wind and going in again. Bellamy shook his head and Clarke heard him laugh lightly.“Where’d you get these pipes, huh? I know your mom sings to you, but I promise it sounds pretty different than what you’re doing...”Even though Jordan couldn’t form a word on her own, she seemed to understand what Bellamy was saying, and her lip puckered slightly as she opened her mouth with renewed vigor“I take it back, I take it back,” Bellamy said hurriedly, but to no avail.





	Little Princess

According to the clock on her bedside table, Clarke’s head had been on the pillow for a blessed fifty-four minutes when the wailing started again. 

Clarke blinked owlishly at it, not as much in disbelief as in hazy exhaustion. She lifted her arm to her face, pressing her elbow over her eyes, giving herself a moment longer to stay horizontal. Just as she was starting to swing her legs over the side of the bed, she felt a hand settle over her shoulder, pressing her gently back into the bed. 

“Let me take this one, yeah?” 

Bellamy’s voice was gravelly with sleep, and Clarke turned her head towards his hand, her eyes seeking out her husband in the early morning light. It was too dark for her to distinguish any of his features, but she knew them by heart anyways. “You sure?” 

“Yep.” His hand lifted from her shoulder glanced along the side of her face before the sheets lifted and the bed tilted. 

Clarke knew he couldn’t see her smile, but the corners of her mouth turned up anyways as she readjusted the sheets, rolling over to watch the baby monitor next to the clock on the nightstand.

Jordan’s face was scrunched up with the effort of her screaming, but Clarke’s smile stretched fondly as she watched her daughter. She heard the bedroom door open through the camera, and Jordan’s wailing hitched when she realized someone had come to help her. Sure enough, Bellamy crossed in the front of the camera  to bend over the crib, lifting their daughter into his arms. 

Clarke snuggled deeper into the pillow, her body relaxing as Bellamy’s low voice carried through the house. She couldn’t make out any of the words, but his voice was just as soothing to her as it was to their daughter. When Jordan’s screams quieted to a steady cry, Clarke reached over to turn up the volume on the camera.

“Hey, little princess,” Bellamy was crooning, shuffling around the room slowly, “bad dream or just lonely?”

Jordan hiccupped before drawing fresh wind and going in again. Bellamy shook his head and Clarke heard him laugh lightly.

“Where’d you get these pipes, huh? I know your mom sings to you, but I promise it sounds pretty different than what you’re doing...”

Even though Jordan couldn’t form a word on her own, she seemed to understand what Bellamy was saying, and her lip puckered slightly as she opened her mouth with renewed vigor.

“I take it back, I take it back,” Bellamy said hurriedly, but to no avail.

Clarke had to reach over to turn the monitor down again, and Jordan ramped back up. The cries seemed to echo around their house, and Clarke sighed at the ceiling.

It wasn’t like she could go back to sleep.

She slipped out of the bed, heading down the hall to Jordan’s room, pausing at the doorway to smile at the picture in front of her.

Bellamy’s back was to her, his broad shoulders were hunched as he held their daughter. He was shifting between his feet, rocking her gently, and Clarke could hear his soft voice in the breaks when Jordan paused for air.

“I love you,” he said soothingly, “but you need to hush, baby girl. Your mama’s had a long night, and if we keep this up, she won’t get any sleep at all.”

Clarke pushed away from the door. “Sleep is overrated,” she said softly, slipping a hand around Bellamy’s waist and resting her head on his upper arm.

She felt him shift as he looked down at her, regretfully. “Sorry, I thought—”

“Not your fault,” Clarke interrupted, lifting a hand to the top of Jordan’s head, to play with the soft curls resting there. Jordan’s eyes darted upwards, confused by the new hand, and her wails quieted when she recognized the touch.

Bellamy made a face. “That’s not fair.”

“We can’t all be magic, Blake,” Clarke teased lightly, raising her other arm to take Jordan. Bellamy let her go reluctantly; but he stayed close. Jordan was still making whimpering sounds, and Clarke cradled her close. “Keep talking, Bell, she likes it.”

In the dim light, she still saw his arched eyebrow. “She does, or you do?”

“Yes,” Clarke said noncommittally, crossing the room to sit in the overstuffed chair in the corner. “Come on, what’s the point of a doctorate if you don’t have a story for your two favorite girls?”

Bellamy groaned. “Well how am I supposed to say no to that?”

Clarke beamed at him as he crossed the room to the chair, perching on the armrest. She leaned back into him, her head on his chest, and his arm settled around her shoulders.

“There was once a princess,” Bellamy began, his fingers squeezing Clarke’s shoulder, “She was the goddaughter of the sun, and she saved not only her city, but the neighboring island too.”

“As every princess must try to do,” Clarke supplied, looking down at her daughter, “remember that, sweetie.”

“If she’s takes after her mother at all, she’ll have no problem remembering that,” Bellamy said dryly, and Clarke laughed.

“Okay but the princess in the story…?”

“We’ll call her Ari,” Bellamy recovered, “and her father was king of a small island. Each year, to keep the gods happy, 7 boys and 7 girls from a neighboring island had to come and fight this monster. But they never won.”

“Wait a sec,” Clarke tilted her head back to squint at him, “Ari as in Ariadne? You’re leading out with the _minotaur_?”

“Well now you stole the punchline,” Bellamy pouted.

“Oh, by all means, go ahead,” Clarke shook her head, “I’m terribly curious how this hunger games of a myth is your soothing bedtime story.”

“Prepare to be amazed,” he grumbled, and Clarke bit her lip to hide a smile, looking down at her daughter. Jordan was still whimpering, and her eyes showed no signs of closing soon, but she was much more quiet.

“The rules were,” Bellamy continued, “that the 14 kids had to just fight. But they were kids, so they didn’t do too well.”

“As has been the case historically,” Clarke interjected helpfully.

“Until,” Bellamy said pointedly, trudging along, “Ari came along. Ari had been watching the event each year, and one year she decided enough was enough, and she had to help. So she picked a champion. A young boy, a prince, actually. But she saved him. She gave him the special tools he’d need to beat the monster, and she told him its weaknesses. She helped him beat he labyrinth, and gave him the sword to kill the monster.”

“Happy stuff, right, Jordan?” Clarke asked seriously and Bellamy muttered something about being underappreciated. Jordan cooed sweetly though, picking up the encouragement where Clarke stopped, and Bellamy seemed placated .

“Ari and her prince were tired of the island, so they ran away, to an island in the sun.”

“Hip hip,” Clarke said helpfully, and Bellamy snorted.

“Yeah, sure. All that island-saving was pretty tiring for Ari, so she took a nap.”

“Must be nice,” Clarke muttered.

“One of these days, we’ll have to try it out,” Bellamy responded in a similar tone, and Clarke heard the smile on his voice before he continued. “But guess what happened while she was sleeping, little princess?”

Clarke shifted Jordan in her arms, lifting a hand to squeeze her cheeks and raising her voice in a pantomime. “Well, Pop, I think Ari probably realized that princes are liars and cowards?”

Bellamy chuckled. “Nice, Clarke.”

“What?” she said in faux innocence, “Not my fault our daughter understands that them’s the breaks.”

He shook his head. “Well, that’s exactly what happened. Ari woke up, and her prince was gone! He’d fled the island and left her there on her own, despite everything she’d done to help him.”

“Ergo the ‘liars and cowards’ bit,” Clarke shrugged.

“Sure, Clarke,” Bellamy said amusedly, before refocusing on their daughter. “But do you think Ari stayed on the island?”

“The island couldn’t hold her, could it, sweetie?” Clarke smiled at Jordan.

“Yeah, your mom’s right. Ari didn’t need a prince for a best friend; she found a new one. A god.”

“Do you have a kid-friendly translation of Dionysus?” Clarke asked smugly.

Bellamy stuttered a few times before shrugging. “Can we just call him Dave?”

“Ari, Princess of Crete, savior of Athens…and her buddy Dave?”

“Okay, the name’s a work in progress, sorry, J.”

“She forgives you.”

Bellamy snorted. “I was really worried there... No, but she makes a new best friend. And instead of leaving her on an island, he takes her to the stars. He offers her constellations, and he takes her far away from the tiny islands. And she becomes a god, too.”

“And they fall in love,” Clarke said softly.

Jordan’s eyes were closing, and Bellamy’s hand tightened on her shoulders.

“That’s right, they did,” he said, his voice soft, too. “She makes him happier than anyone he’s ever met, mortal or divine. He sees how beautiful she is, but also how smart, and how kind. And everyone knows it, everyone knows how out of his league she is, and how enamored with her he is, but he doesn’t care.”

Clarke tipped her head back again to look up at Bellamy, to find his eyes already on her. She shook her head at him, breaking away from his gaze to look down at their daughter. “And they live happily ever after?”

“They did. Some of the only ones among the gods to do so.”

Jordan made a gurgling sound, her eyes fluttering shut. Clarke looked up at Bellamy in wonder, before slowly standing and sliding her away across the floor to the crib. When she set Jordan down on the blankets, the girl wiggled slightly, but her breathing stayed normal. Clarke let out a short breath, her hands hovering over the crib for a moment before she turned back to Bellamy. They tiptoed out of the room, wincing at the click the door made when it shut, then shuffling down the hall.

Bellamy held out his hand, palm up, and Clarke mimed slapping down at it. She stopped her fingers just above his palm to avoid the sound a high-five would make, and instead just slipped her fingers through his, squeezing lightly.

“I stand corrected,” she whispered, following him down the hall.

“Not three words I hear often,” Bellamy whispered back, pulling her in front of him to get back to the room. She let go of him as they went around their respective sides of the bed; Clarke checked the volume on the baby monitor before sliding back under the covers.

“I meant,” Clarke said, her voice a little louder now that there were two closed doors between them and Jordan, “that it was a good story, Bell.” 

“Have to use the doctorate for something right?” he mumbled and Clarke rolled her eyes, reaching for him as he crawled onto his side of the bed.

She found his upper arm, her hands tracing down it lazily until she felt his fingers. She squeezed lightly, and he squeezed back. The house was quiet and the street outside was too; they had another hour or so before the world required they wake again.

As Clarke was drifting off to sleep, a thought occurred to her. 

“Hey, Bell?” she asked softly, unsure if he was asleep or not.

“Yeah,” he responded, his voice thick, but not bothered. 

“Sorry,” she said all the same, before turning on her side to face him. In the darkness, she could make out his profile—the line of his nose, the dip in his chin, the fine lines of his lashes—and she nestled the side of her face into the pillow, watching him. “What about Perseus?” 

His lashes blinked open and she watched a slight indent form on his forehead as he frowned at the ceiling.

“What about him?” 

“Didn’t he kill Ariadne? With Medusa’s head?” 

The furrow of his forehead erased and Clarke watched a grin stretch across his face. She had only a moment longer to enjoy his profile before Bellamy shifted, turning on his side to face her. His free hand fell down to their still-joined hands between them, and he brought her fingers up to his face. As he brushed his lips over the top of her knuckles, she could feel his smile. 

“Remind me,” he teased gently, “that no matter how hard a time you give me about mythology, you’re actually listening to every word.” 

“ _Every_ word might be an exaggeration...” she admitted, not quite wanting to concede, before she lifted the shoulder that wasn’t pressed into the bed in a half shrug. “What can I say: you’re a nerd about your ancient Greeks, and I’m a nerd about you.”   

Bellamy laughed shortly, and she felt his exhale on her fingertips, before he kissed them again. “Well, I’m a lucky man.” 

Clarke drew in a quick breath.

Almost as soon as they’d started dating, it’d been like this between the two of them: Bellamy just saying the sweetest, simplest things with the utmost sincerity, and her heart just clenching with fullness. And no matter how many times she’d counter with a like truth, he’d see it as a compliment, not that she was the lucky one. 

“So,” Clarke said, veering back to mythology. “Perseus killed Ariadne...did you lie to our daughter about happy endings?”

Bellamy chuckled, a low rumble in his chest and Clarke felt the bed shift slightly. “Come on, have a little faith.”

“I would, but it’s kind of hard to have a happily ever after when half of your whole is a stone statue, right?”

“Ah, but Princess,” Bellamy said, one of his hands releasing hers and trailing up her arm. “What kind of god would Dionysus be, if he let a thing like death stand between him and his wife?”

Clarke shivered when his hand reached her shoulder, settling there for a moment before travelling up her neck. Bellamy’s fingers wove into the hair at the base of her neck, and she leaned her head into his touch. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t do it without her,” Bellamy’s thumb slipped up to her cheek, a gentle caress to match the soothing rhythm of his words, “The god of chaos and revelry, madness and merriment, absolutely crumbled. Ariadne was his everything. And life immortal, life without consequence, life without limits, without the woman he loved? It was empty. He stormed Hades, brought her to Olympus again, and demanded that she be made a god.”

“Oh.” Clarke’s voice was small, and Bellamy chuckled again.

“He gave her a crown,” he said softly, his hand moving from her cheek to the top of her head, thumb tracing a gentle path above her eyes, “the Corona constellation, a diadem for a goddess. She’s the keeper of labyrinths, and still a hero for anyone who is lost.”

“Sounds like a heavy crown,” Clarke mused.

“Not for Ariadne.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm,” Bellamy parroted, before dropping his hand from her forehead and rolling back onto his back. Clarke’s hand was still held in his, and he pulled her into his side as he went. She snuggled into his chest. “Sounds like a pretty perfect happy ever after, right?”

“It’s a good story,” she admitted into his tshirt.

“I’ll let Homer know you think so,” Bellamy mumbled, his eyes closing again. Clarke flicked his side lightly, smiling when his response was to pull her closer, rather than retaliate. She was more than happy with the arrangement, wrapping her own arm around his stomach.

Yes, she should’ve been asleep hour ago. Yes, Jordan would probably wake up again before the rest of the county even thought about breakfast. And yes, she’d meant it, Dionysus and Ariadne did make a pretty good story. But this—her arms around him and his around her—this was the perfect happily ever after.  

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Talk to me in the comments, or over on [tumblr](http://the-most-beautiful-broom.tumblr.com/) ♥


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